On the Brink
by PeregrineTook
Summary: Elodin makes a shocking request. Kvothe consents. Elodin/Kvothe oneshot (I couldn't resist).


_____So ... feedback would be much appreciated on this one. This is my first foray into smut (oh, heads' up, this one's smut!), and the completely silent reception is making me super self-conscious. If I don't get any feedback, then I will assume everyone is taking Thumper's advice and I will take this story down. Thanks!_

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"_What?_"

Under Elodin's tutelage, I had gotten staggering drunk three times that term. I had stripped naked in a thunderstorm, stumbled around blindfolded, and deprived myself of countless hours of sleep. I had let him tie me to a tree overnight. I had stopped speaking for two spans. I had even put aside my lute for nearly a span, during which my mood had become so black and my tongue so venomous that even Elodin finally admitted it had been a mistake to suggest it. But this … _this_ was surely the strangest thing he had ever asked of me.

"What did you say?" I repeated, swiveling to stare down at him from my perch on the edge of the roof. I remained in the position he had demanded previously—one foot in the air, an empty bottle of apple brandy balanced on the back of my hand. To my great relief, Elodin had drunk most of the brandy himself.

"Kiss me."

I tried to imagine doing such a thing, and failed. "Why?"

He waved his hands at me wildly. "Why are you hovering over me like a one-footed ape? Why does the wind blow? Why does the sea swell? Why -"

He continued in that vein for a surprisingly long time. The nonsense words resonated in my chest, pulling at me like a great current.

I sighed. It had been like this for hours—me succumbing to one insane demand after another, him swinging between a fae gaiety and a precipitous ire. There were days when I suspected his madness was feigned. This was not one of them.

"—Why shouldn't the chicken cross the road?" Elodin paused, swaying slightly. Then—"Why not?"

I considered that. "Don't take this personally," I said finally, "but you're not really my type."

"Bah," he spat. "What's that got to do with the price of butter?"

We stared at each other in silence for a while. "Professor," I said slowly. "Is there a funny taste in your mouth? Like nutmeg?"

He blinked up at me, bemused. "It's apple brandy, lad. _Apple_." He paused. "But it might be good with nutmeg. Maybe I should send you for some."

I slid the empty bottle off the back of my hand and tossed it to him. "No point. We're all out."

He sighed and flopped down onto the rough blanket at his feet, splaying his fingers in the Adem gesture for _regret_. He scratched his head and stared up at me. "What are you still doing on that damn ledge? Sit down. You're making me dizzy."

I stepped down, resisting the urge to point out that he had ordered me to stand there "until Cendling or the day after, whichever came first." I sank against the wall, curling my bare feet under me the way I might once have done before falling asleep on my secret rooftop in Tarbean. Some days, an hour of studying under Elodin felt more exhausting than an entire span of studying under Vashet.

Elodin slid towards me on his knees and I started, leaning away. Surely he didn't really intend to kiss me? The wall pushed against my back. _Trapped_, I thought wildly. He saw my alarm and hesitated, a curious look in his dark eyes.

"Am I so repulsive to you?" He sounded more surprised than insulted.

"No," I said. "It's just …" I took a deep breath. "You're my professor."

"So I am!" he cried. "And I am human, and have teeth. Sometimes I wear vests. What is your point?"

"I'm just not sure it's a good idea."

"Unlike standing on that ledge just now, which was an excellent idea."

"That's not the same thing—"

"—or jumping off the Rookery," he continued, "—or baiting Ambrose Jakis. Or—"

I blushed. "That's not—"

He pressed a finger against my lips, suddenly serious. "_Kiss me_, Kvothe."

The command resonated through me like a clear, sharp bell. Without thinking, I slid to my knees, seized his shirt in my hands, and pulled him towards me.

I froze in place, our mouths an inch apart. I released my grip, reeling in shock.

Elodin had spoken, and my body had simply _obeyed_. No hesitation, no thought. Felurian had commanded me this way, I thought. She could pull me to her breast with a single word, or a shift of her hips.

It was not the first time Elodin had reminded me of her, but the similarities between them were suddenly more striking than ever. The way their voices moved inside of me, like thunder and rain. Like shared breath. The way their deep eyes steadied the storm in my heart. The way the very fabric of the world seemed to lean towards them.

Elodin rested a hand on my knee. "What are you thinking?"

"Sometimes you remind me of Felurian," I said absently. I started at the look on his face. "Not like that."

His eyes danced. "Not like what?"

"You know …" My voice trailed off. Then, hesitantly—"Do you really want me to kiss you?"

"Is it really that different from anything else I've ever asked you to do?"

I chewed on that. It _felt_ different, but I couldn't say why. I harbored no disgust towards men who enjoyed the advances of other men, though I preferred the company of women. Once, late at night, I had caught Stanchion and Deoch embracing in a dark corner of the Eolian. I had barely thought anything of it, though Stanchion could hardly look me in the eye for a span afterwards.

When I'd lived in Tarbean, I'd been offered food and a night indoors more times than I cared to remember in exchange for the sort of favors most men satisfied in brothels or their marriage bed. Even half-starved and half-frozen, I had known to run. Was the fear I felt now simply an echo of these nightmares of my childhood? Surely not.

Elodin placed a hand under my chin, lifting my eyes to his. "Do you trust me, Kvothe?"

I stared into his dark, steadying gaze and surprised myself by nodding.

"Then kiss me."

He leaned forward. His lips brushed mine. They parted softly, wetting my own. I was shocked at how familiar it felt, how intimate. I shied away from his mouth again and he pulled back, watching me in silence. Asking for my permission to continue. I nodded uncertainly.

There was nothing romantic or passionate in that kiss. Our lips met briefly and parted, then met and parted again. As we kissed, his fingers slipped behind my neck, lifting my jaw to meet his. Our tentative exploration developed a cadence, becoming an uncertain dance. His tongue darted out to penetrate my half-parted lips and I let it enter me, tasting apple brandy. It was not unpleasant. I relaxed into the embrace slowly, leaning against the wall and pulling him towards me.

It felt strange to kiss another man. I wasn't used to the caress of large hands, the scratch of stubble against my cheeks. But his lips were warm and soft against my own, and he had a skilled tongue. A _very_ skilled tongue, I thought grudgingly, after several dizzying minutes had passed. Elodin broke our embrace to trail wet kisses down the side of my neck and collarbone and I exhaled sharply, my fingers clenching in his shirt. He stared up at me in surprise.

"Sensitive skin," I explained, flushing. Felurian had been the first to notice that, and had been particularly eager to exploit it.

Elodin grinned boyishly. "Oh?" He seized my waist and lowered his jaw to my shoulder, running his tongue along my throat. I gasped, squirming under his grip, but he persisted mercilessly, biting and sucking until there was a trail of hot, angry welts along my skin. I nearly lost my mind with the pleasure of it. My blood rushed downward, surging warmly between my legs and cock. A familiar pressure mounted in my groin.

I pushed Elodin away with sudden fierceness. _Merciful Tehlu_, I was getting _hard_. I stared fixedly into space, avoiding his eyes, trying to cool the heat that was suddenly everywhere at once.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I managed. "I just … I think we should stop."

"Because you have an erection?" he said. He seemed puzzled.

I pulled my knees against my chest. "I don't … I mean, I'm not …"

He raised an eyebrow. "That is rather the point, Kvothe."

I blushed harder. "It's just …" I floundered. "… It's just physical," I said finally. For some reason, it was important to me that he understand that.

He snorted. "Of course it's physical. Lord and lady, boy, I'm not asking for marriage vows. No more than you ask it of yourself when you make love to your fist. I am simply asking you to enter another state of consciousness. To cling to the brink and cry out the name of the wind."

I smiled in spite of myself. "Oh, is that all?"

He stared back at me solemnly. "That is all."

I stared at my knees. "And this … doesn't go beyond this night?"

"Not if it doesn't work," he amended.

I considered that, trying to think past the blood pounding in my temples. "All right," I said finally.

He rested a hand against my knee and pressed down lightly, urging me to open myself back up to him. I did not relax entirely, but I did uncurl enough to allow him to lean over me again. He kissed my forehead lightly before continuing his languorous exploration of my body.

He unbuttoned my shirt. I closed my eyes as he ran his fingers slowly down my bare chest and stomach. He paused to tease the fine trail of red hair that ran downwards from my navel. I reached out to reciprocate his touch, but he pushed my hands away. "No," he said firmly, and that was all.

He leaned forward to suck at one of my nipples. A strangled noise escaped my throat when he bit it gently. I blushed furiously, unmanned by my own reaction. I couldn't believe I was letting this happen. I couldn't believe how good it felt.

I felt so small in his arms, I realized suddenly. Perhaps it was simply that he was taller and broader than me. But no, there was more to it than that. I thought of all the women I had bedded. They had all held me in their thrall, as surely as Felurian had. And yet … I was the one who had crushed _their_ lips, who had pushed their breasts into pillows and meadow grass, who had seized their hips and penetrated their most private caverns. _I_ had claimed _them_, the way Elodin was now claiming me.

These drifting thoughts only intensified my need for his touch. His rough fingers circled the inside of my thighs and I shifted forward, willing him closer to my center. As if oblivious to my mounting desperation, he continued his agonizingly slow and gentle massage.

His pace was driving my mad. Why wouldn't he touch me where I needed to be touched? I hesitated only a moment before unbuttoning my pants and seizing his hand, dragging it upwards to enfold my bare shaft. I rubbed myself against his fingers.

This time, he was the one who hesitated. "Kvothe, are you certain—"

"Please," I whispered. I was beyond caring about consequences. I simply needed the friction.

Finally, his fingers encircled me and began to pump. I rolled my head back and closed my eyes, lips parting in ecstasy. I lost myself completely in the heat of it, raising my hips in time with his steady rhythm. Our tempo mounted until it formed a double-time counterpoint to my racing heart. I drew nearer to the brink. My breathing harshened. The world focused to a single point. My hips bucked wildly now against his palm. _Blackened body of God._

Elodin froze. A noise escaped my throat. Not a whimper. Not quite.

I opened my eyes. "Why did you stop?" I asked breathlessly.

"Can you hear it?"

"What?"

"The wind."

I gaped. "Are you serious?"

"Just try," he urged me.

At that moment, I could have strangled him. I shot him a glance that would have ignited a lesser man. He just stared back at me, maddeningly calm.

I_ tried_ to ignore the sore pressure in my groin. I _tried_ to remind myself that this was the point of the exercise, that this was what Elodin had asked of me. I _tried_ to focus on the wind.

"Anything?"

"I'm a bit distracted at the moment," I snapped.

"Ah," he said mournfully. "Well, I suppose that makes two of us."

I glanced down, surprised to see the tight bulge in his pants. He sighed and frowned at the warm summer wind blowing around us, as if it, and not he, were responsible for our predicament. "It was a decent thought," he said absently. "Edges, you know …" He sighed. "I suppose the situation has gotten away from us."

I stared, trying to comprehend his utter nonchalance. "Wasn't that the point?" I managed tightly.

"The point was for the situation to get away from _you_," he said pointedly. "I am supposed to be instructing you."

"Can't you do both?" I found myself staring at his wet, swollen lips. _Wet_, I thought. God, I wanted ... no, I wouldn't think about that. I wouldn't cross that line. Would I?

I stared into his eyes. Felurian had told me once that my eyes turned almost black when I was at the height of my passion. His eyes seemed equally dark to me. A trick of the light? "So it didn't work," I said slowly. "It would be a waste not to finish what we started."

Elodin eyed my flushed cheeks and bare chest. "Kvothe—"

"Don't overthink it," I urged. I couldn't stop thinking about his mouth. How good it would feel ... I raised my fingers to his lips. They parted at my touch. He kissed my fingers gently.

"At least one of us is still thinking," he murmured.

I flushed, drawing back. "You started this," I said hotly.

"And maybe I should finish it, before we both lose our wits."

I was suddenly furious. Furious with him for bringing me to the brink, and more furious with him for pulling away. Furious with him for this inconveniently timed bout of sanity. "Fine. Then _finish_ it." I rolled onto my knees, and he turned to face me. The movement put his back to the wall and I took full advantage, placing a hand to his chest and pushing him hard against it. I seized his wrists in my other hand, slamming them into the bricks above his head. I straddled his hips and thrust my tongue between his lips. His wordless protestations vibrated against the back of my throat as I devoured his mouth.

I gave him no quarter. I was not going to let him control me, let him hold back while I roiled under his ministrations like a wanton alley whore. My free hand unbuttoned his pants with the swiftness I'd learned picking pockets in Tarbean. I reached inside the soft fabric to grasp him firmly. I pulled at the taut flesh until he was as achingly hard as I was. He groaned softly against my mouth as I stroked him. His hips pressed into my ass as he seized beneath me.

I was desperate for friction now, but our position was awkward. Without thinking, I rolled my hips forward to rub my shaft against his. It felt better than I could have imagined. I marveled at the feel of his swollen shaft as it pressed against me, firm tissue beneath silken skin. I used my free hand to guide our increasingly frantic motion.

I finally released his hands and rested my head against his shoulder, panting my pleasure as we brought ourselves closer to the edge of release.

"Look at me, Kvothe," Elodin said suddenly. His voice was tight and low and breathless. He lifted my chin with one hand.

His dark eyes, narrow with pleasure, bore into my own. Our breathing deepened and quickened and synchronized, until we breathed as one. The world closed in around us, until only we existed. Suddenly, the short distance that separated us seemed a chasm. _We are the same_, I thought dizzily, and then—_No, we are one. _ The void between us was suddenly intolerable to me. In my mind's eye, I reached for him, just as he reached for me.

Somewhere in that single-minded heat, the world stopped spinning.

For an eternal moment, we simply stared at each other across the void. Then he whispered a name. It was _my_ name, but not as you have heard it. No, it was more than a name. It was a song. It sang of half-healed wounds, aching still after so many years. It sang of love and loss, will and wit, fury and hatred and a terrible fear. Beneath that song lay a silence deeper than death. Above it, like the allegro runs of a libertine melody, rode the tenor of my passion.

I stared into Elodin, and spoke his name in turn. He smiled sadly in recognition of it.

His name was madness. It skipped lightly across the surface of an ocean of grief. It was a feeble construct, a teetering platform amid drowning waves. He perched on the very edge of it, staring out over the dark water with the wild hunger of a suicide. His hunger for me was the merest echo of a bone-deep ache for that infinite darkness.

I suddenly knew that, if I wished it, I could reach out and shape him as I willed. I could calm the raging deluge of his mind, at least for a time. I could incite him to anger or fear. I could force him to speak his darkest truths, lay all his secrets bare. I could break him with pain, as Haliax had done to Cinder the night my parents died.

I knew all of these things, and rejected them._ Never_, I thought, and I felt his relief. Like oarsmen navigating a treacherous sea, we steered carefully to safer waters. We buried ourselves more deeply into the connection we had wrought, the hunger and heat that consumed us still.

Connected thus, disconnected from time, we finally drove each other over the edge of ecstasy. It crashed over us in waves, longer and deeper than any climax I'd ever felt. Pleasure ricocheted across the void between us, and I bit back a moan. I collapsed against Elodin's chest as it overtook me. He was gasping in my ear, seizing my shoulder hard enough to bruise. I might have wondered then if it were possible to die of pleasure, had there been any room left in my mind for thought.

The last wave of bliss finally passed and I sagged in his arms, mentally and physically exhausted. We were a mess in more ways than one, but I couldn't string together enough energy to care. We lay in a heap on the roof of Mains, luxuriating simply in the warmth and comfort of each other's touch.

"Blackened body of god," I whispered finally.

Elodin glanced at me and then away, shrugging lightly. "It wasn't bad, for a hand job."

I stared up at him, my face a mask of blank astonishment.

After a moment, he met my gaze and grinned. He stuck his tongue out. "I'm teasing, you fool."

I smiled weakly and collapsed against the wall. "You're an ass."

We stared out over the ledge in silence for a long time, listening to the wind and the sound of our own breathing. Eventually, Elodin broke the silence.

"Edges," was all he said.

"Edges," I agreed. We spoke no more for the rest of the night.


End file.
